


Sides of a Triangle

by MSpataro210



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bartender Dean, Bisexual Dean, But it leads to some hilarious stories, But one part that has a bit of melancholy, Chef Benny, Dean tries new things, F/M, Gay Benny, Humor, Lawyer Balthazar, Lawyer Sam, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Multi, Pansexual Castiel, Polyamory, Professor Castiel, Professor Jessica Moore, TA Kevin Tran, The Gang Argues For Most of This Fic, because Dean is obviously a bottom, cursing and foul language aplenty, mentions a lot of butt stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-15 00:33:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4586211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MSpataro210/pseuds/MSpataro210
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean calls his friends and family to the Roadhouse for an announcement, the group has their own ideas of what it's going to be: too bad it splits them down the middle!  Stories galore as they race the clock to figure out which group is right, trying to decide on one of two options, but has it occurred to them that there is a third option?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sides of a Triangle

**Author's Note:**

> So I own nothing except the plot and anything that isn't copyrighted. This fic was the hardest thing I had to work on to date. I had the idea sitting in my notes for awhile, but never knew how to start it. But this weekend I sat down and have been cranking it out am very pleased with how it turned out, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

Sides of a Triangle:

            The Roadhouse sits in the middle of an empty street.  In the middle of the day, the bar is barren as drinking around this time is frowned upon by most members of society, including the owners.  But that might also have to do with the fact that hanging on the door is a sign that reads “CLOSED”.  But in this fine establishment great news is about to break, and those who are to hear it rush to flood the wood-and-brick building.

            Right outside the Roadhouse, a small, beat-up, yellow bug putters to a stop.  Like lightning, a woman with bright red hair and an even brighter smile hops out of the automobile, slamming the door with a spring in her step. She marches towards her target, swinging through the door and ignoring the signage.

            “What’s up bitches!” she yells to the vacant room.  Well, almost vacant. The sole occupant of the main room stands behind the bar with a bottle of beer in hand.  He stands over six feet, and his hair is obviously more than six inches.

            “Apparently you are,” the man says, reaching for another bottle, “Want one Charlie?”

            “Sam,” Charlie chides, striding further forward, “do you know how inappropriate you sound?”

            Sam schools a sorry look on his face, turning away.  “You’re right,” he laments, “I know what I said was wrong: by now, I should know you would never turn down free booze.”

            “Right on the target!” She cheers, accepting the bottle from him.  She tips the neck in the direction of his now smirking face, and together they clink before they chug.

            When they finish, wiping the alcohol-staches from their lips, does Charlie finally take a look around.

            “Where’s the people who actually work here?” she asks, pointing a perfect arched brow at Kansas’s own Jolly Green Giant.

            “Ellen’s upstairs still asleep, she had some pretty messy customers that kept her up cleaning the night before,” Sam explains, “and Jo and Ash are in the back doing inventory. They let me in.”

            “First to arrive?” Charlie rhetorically says, “Careful, Sam, your excitement is showing.”

            Sam shoots her a patented bitch-face before taking another swig from the bottle.  “Can you blame me?  Dean doesn’t usually call everyone together to announce something,” he says, “It must be big.”

            Charlie can only nod as she too takes a sip from her beer.  The reason the Roadhouse will be seeing more activity than it’s used to at this time is because Dean Winchester, Sam’s brother and Charlie’s best friend, has called his extended family in to make a very large announcement.

            Charlie turns to look at Sam, but before she speaks she notices there’s a gleam in his eye. She narrows her eyes into slits. “What do you know?”

            “What, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam tries to lie, but he should know by now nothing gets past her.  He should remember, he was there when Kevin broke her light saber and tried blaming it on a burglar. Sam should remember how Charlie _broke him_.

            “Sam,” she presses, leaning forward, “spill.”

            It takes a couple of seconds, but soon enough Sam is talking.

            “Okay,” Sam says, “I’m not sure what Dean is going to tell us, but I have a pretty good idea of what it is.”

            “Give me the deets!” she cheers, lifting her bottle above her head.

            “Well,” Sam starts, “I think he’s going to tell us… that he has a boyfriend!”

            “Shit, you know too!”

            If Sam was waiting for a reaction, that wasn’t it.  Now Sam has the dumbfounded look on his face while Charlie is looking at him with a horrific glee in her eye.

            “I thought I was the only one!” she continues, “I didn’t want to out him, but now that you know… What did you think? How did you see them?”

            Sam leans forward on the barstool, now over his initial shock and ready to spill the tea.

            “Well, I first saw them…”

* * *

 

            “I can’t believe the prices here!  Last week the kale was seventy-five cents less for a pound!”

            Jess places her hand on Sam’s soldier, her golden locks tied behind her in a ponytail and her blue eyes radiating calmness.  “Now Sam,” she soothes, “look at the bushel.  It’s much fresher than last week.  Of course it’s going to be more.”

            The couple was in the farmer’s market, basket in hand, as they made their way through the aisles to stock their kitchen for the upcoming week.  Jess wore a pale blue sundress, while Sam dressed down in a plaid shirt and shorts.  It was a welcome change from the suits he had to wear for court.

            Sam sighs, placing the kale in the basket in defeat, “Alright.”

            Jess pecks him on the cheek. “Now,” she says turning, “I’m going to check at that stall to see if they have anymore of that nut cheese we tried last week.  Can you pick up the heirloom tomatoes?”

            “Sure thing sweetie!” he calls to the retreating figure of his wife.  He smiles, shaking his head as the loose strands of his hair fall from its bun.  He moves towards the tomatoes, sandals smacking against the gravel of the outside walkway, when his eyes catch upon an uncommon sight.

            A couple stalls away, his brother Dean stands talking to a man running a honey stall. Sam can only gawk at the figure of his brother, and he’s sure it’s him as he’s had to see that body for more than twenty years, stand in a place Dean swore he’d never go unless taken over by a parasitic creature that could only survive by “eating healthy”.

            He’s taken aback, but then he sees something that really pours the ice down his shorts. After Dean purchases two glass jars full of honey, he trots over a few stands to place them in the basket of a much larger man.  Dean’s already a bit over six feet, so for the man to be bigger than him is saying something.

            The other man turns his attention away from the butcher’s stall, and the goofiest smile flits over his features, icy blue eyes warming at the new sight.  Sam knows that smile, he’s seen it on his own face, and is seeing it on Dean’s face now.  Sam now inches closer to get a better look, hiding behind canopy after canopy to get a clearer view.

            He can’t hear what they are saying, but he does get proof of what he’s beginning to suspect when he catches Dean and the mystery man holding hands as Dean pecks the guy on the cheek, similar to Jess and Sam moments ago.  They leave, unknowingly abandoning a young lawyer as he internally freaks over this new development in the life of his seemingly straight brother.

            He’s only broken out of his reverie when his wife finds him as still as a statue next to the fertilizer stand.

            “Sam?” she asks, hands on hips, “where are the tomatoes?”

* * *

 

            “I had to keep my façade for the rest of the time there AND the drive back,” Sam is laughing now, “but it wasn’t until I got home that I broke.”

            He’s doubled over, recounting the strange event that at first freaked him out but he’s now had time to analyze and laugh over.  He decided after that day that he was going to wait until Dean brought up his boyfriend before discussing it, and since now was the day he gets to share this little tale with his brother.

            Sam looks up, but soon cuts his chuckles short when he sees how stone face his friend is.

            “What?” Sam asks Charlie, “What’s wrong?”

            “What did Dean’s boyfriend look like?” Charlie asks?

            Sam thinks back: “Average guy. Short, cropped dirty blonde hair, really tall with big muscles, pale, and a beard.  And, he had these eyes that were as blue as ice.”

            “Yeah, you’re wrong,” Charlie calmly says, while sipping at her drink.

            “Come again?”

            “Dean’s boyfriend,” Charlie continues, “looks nothing like what you described.”

            “Uh, I think I’m sure what I saw, Celeste,” Sam counters crossing his arms.

            “Maybe the fumes of the cow shit distracted you moose-for-brains,” Charlie fires back, a grimace on her face.

            “Then why don’t you enlighten me and tell me how _you_ met Dean’s boyfriend,” Sam challenges her.

            Charlie grins, a frightening look in her eye, “Fine.  I will. What I was doing on that day, no ordinary day….”

* * *

 

            “…Hello? Skyrim Customer Service? Yes, my name is Charlie Bradbury, username QueenOfTheMoons69.  I want to report some horrible, misogynistic comments that a user was typing towards me. …It felt like I was in the actual middle ages that’s how backwards his way of thinking was.  …His username… it was Franken_Singer.  …What did he say?  Just the usual kitchen stuff… but then it got cruder and more personal the more I ignored him.  In the end I challenged him to a duel.  I could tell he was trying so hard to fridge me, but with only one hand he was an easy kill. …Thank you so much, have a nice day!

            Charlie puts down her cell phone on the café table, picking up her espresso for a quick sip. She needed the energy since she had to work halfway through her lunch break and _still_ has to finish the final touches on her project. But a workingwoman needs to eat. Plus she doesn’t want to miss lunch _today_.

            Today, being the day her favorite yoga teacher from across the street would teach her class, and Charlie always got the best seat to view her finest… _assets_.

            Now that she finished her important call and has her shot of caffeine, she can sit back, relax and-

            Holy Eye of Sauron! Is that Dean!?!

            From her position, not only was Charlie able to see the teacher, but she can also see Dean, her best friend Dean, doing his best at the warrior pose.

            She almost spits out her drink. Almost.  Instead she chokes down the hot beverage and leans further to investigate.

            From what she’s seeing, Dean isn’t just making a half-assed attempt.  He’s an active participant.  Charlie never knew how flexible Dean could be if he tried, and if she was actually straight he might have made her girlhood trembled.  Thank God she wasn’t.

            Charlie, being a woman of logic, runs through the different scenarios in her mind, and comes to only one logical conclusion: Dean is doing this to pick up chicks.

            The bastard!

            She told him this plan in confidence and here he is, betraying her trust!  The Benedict Arnold to her George Washington!  The Anakin to her Obi-Wan!  The period to her white dress!

            Who cares about her project, the minute that class is over she is going to scold him so hard he’d wish he were thrown into Mount Doom instead of the ring.

            She bides her time at the café sipping, checking emails, and watching: all in anger.

            When the time comes, when all the students start to filter from the building, does she rise from her seat. She has her fist raised, mouth open, ready to raise her voice without care of the consequence, when she sees it.

            Dean, being followed by a man an inch or two beneath him in height, with tan skin and a messy mop of raven hair… and they’re holding hands.

            She is frozen, as if she looked into the eyes of the basilisk, taking in the scene.  Both Dean and the mystery stranger are in tanks and sweats, yoga mats over their shoulders, and completely lost in each other. Forest green lost in ocean blue.

            Slowly, she slinks down, her anger giving way to confusion.  There was no way Dean was gay.  If he was, wouldn’t he have let her, a fellow gay, know?  Does the word LGBT+ mean _nothing!?!_ They are a community: communication is a necessary part!

            The couple strolls down the street, content in their company, and unknown to the befuddled bystander.

            Charlie only stops watching them when she notices the gaze of another… on her.

            The yoga instructor stands in front of her door, slightly hunched over, alabaster skin red from laughing so hard.

            Charlie only realizes after a beat that _she_ was what the woman was laughing at.

            Sliding down further into her seat, Charlie whips out her phone, tasked with a new mission of finding a place close enough to her work to have lunch.  Yoda knows she can never go back here again.

* * *

            “Dean totally killed my chance with the teacher that day,” Charlie grumbles, “now I’ll never know if I can go down her yellow brick road.”

            “TMI,” Sam starts, “and you must have been seeing things.  It’s easy to mix up someone holding hands.  I saw a _kiss_.  You must have let the anger get to you.”

            Now Charlie is barely containing her rage.  “Are you saying that I was _overreacting_ , Sam?” Her voice has a dangerous hilt to it, like a knife on the aorta.  “Please choose your words very carefully, as I might _overreact_ again.”

            “I’m just saying that I’m right and you’re wrong,” Sam argues, not liking being threatened, “Dean’s boyfriend is the guy I saw not the one you must have imagined.”

            “Watch out, moose man,” Charlie screams, “I’m overreacting!”  She slams the empty bottle on the bar and grips it in her hand as Sam and she lean over the bar close enough they can feel the hot breath on each other’s faces.

            The sound of breaking glass and loud voices, however, brings out the only other two who are on the same floor as the arguing duo.  Jo and Ash rush in from the other room, take in the fight they see before them, and go to stop it.

            Jo grabs a hold of Charlie’s arms, forcing her away from the bar and disarming her at the same time.

            Ash, on the other hand, pulls Sam away from the glassware that would be a pain to replace.

            “Can someone,” Jo asks, “please tell me what the two of you are yelling about?”

            Both Sam and Charlie turn to her and yell “He/She is wrong about Dean’s boyfriend!”

            “You guys know, too!”

            Now every pair of eyes in the room is in a state of confusion/shock.  Jo and Ash look at each other from across the battlefield, as both said the same thing at the same time.  The outburst from the Double Pint Twins has startled Charlie and Sam that they have dropped their hostilities (for now) and flit their glances from between the two.

            “Does everyone know about Dean’s boyfriend,” Charlie wiggles free from Jo’s grip, “because his announcement might be pointless then.”

            “At least we can figure out who’s right,” Sam moves from the bar and next to Charlie, anger completely dissipated in the light of new evidence, “So, who wants to tell their story first?”

            Jo and Ash look at each other, but Ash holds his hands up in surrender, leaving Jo to begin her tale.

            “Alright fine,” she sighs, taking a seat, “While I tell the story, Ash, _you_ get to clean up the glass.  Now, from what I can recall, I saw them a few weeks ago…” 

* * *

            Jo hates going to the mall. She hates the crusty pre-teens who seem to have less shame than she did at that age.  She hates the free samples people force on her. She even hates the music they blast through the speakers that makes her feel like she’s trapped in an elevator.

            So when her mother tasked her with finding a gift for her step-father’s birthday, she knew she had to brave the hell that was known as “Lawrence Center Mall”.

            And it’s not like she could have gotten her boyfriend, Balthazar, to come with her, seeing as how he was in England for work.  She had to face her demons alone.

            “Now where is the perfect, affordable gift?”

            She’s walking through the off-white hallway, head moving from store to store.  So far nothing has caught her eye as the _perfect_ gift.

            “No… no… too fancy… too expensive… too frilly…wait… what?”

            She comes to a halt outside of a shop that _normally_ she wouldn’t be interested in.  But it’s what’s inside the store… or more like _who’s_ inside the store that has her looking in.

            The last time she was in the mall, she was with Dean and Charlie, having a nice day gorging on mall food and making fun of the types of people who come to the mall. When you’re with people, this place isn’t so bad.  She remembers how they passed this store, Cinnabon’s in hand, and almost choked from laughter. It was too bright, too loud… and the inventory was something out of a bachelorette’s wet dream. They made a pact they would never venture into the unholiest of unholy when they saw an elderly woman leaving with a glass almost as long as her with the words “Ugly When Sober” printed on it.

            But it looks like Dean’s gone back on his word, and is browsing through the aisles of this horrid place. And he’s not alone. He’s with a large man in a Henley who wears a strange hat.  He looks bored to tears while Dean has bright eyes scanning the shelves. It’s a strange sight, since Jo didn’t think Dean had any other friends than their small circle.

            Jo can’t help herself as she decides to break her own vow and pass through the glass doors of the devil’s playground, moving towards the aisle directly behind the duo.

            She can just make out their conversation.

            “…Cher, just pick one and be on with it,” Dean’s companion says in a slow, southern-like accent. It sounds like fresh honey, and each word as gentle as the breeze on a warm, spring morning.

            Dean turns to his companion, crossing his arms.  “Hey, it was your idea to come here,” Dean chides, “You know I’ve never done this kind of… thing.  I want to buy the best.”

            Now Jo is curious. What could possibly interest Dean in this store?

            The larger man smiles, taking Dean’s hands from their place in his armpits and dropping them between their bodies: letting them swing freely.  With their fingers laced, the man looks right into Dean’s eyes.

            “It doesn’t matter what type or color, Dean,” he whispers, barely audible to even Jo’s ears, “sooner or later it’s going to be shoved up your ass… all that matters is what kind of vibes it gives off.”

            Now, from their position, anyone would think this conversation was saccharine and intimate, but in reality all Jo wants to do is take the large novelty beer mug and hurl her breakfast into it.

            Dean smiles, leaning forward so his mouth is hovering over his friend’s ear: “Then why don’t we just get a bunch and… _test_ them out at your place.”

            If Jo weren’t already baptized she would be throwing herself back into the baptismal font to wash the sins from her body.  She recovers from her bout of nausea, just in time to catch the other man’s smirk, as he leads Dean forward from the aisle towards the cash register with two to three large _personal messagers_ in his large hands.

            Jo would say she’s ready to tear Dean a new one if he wasn’t already gonna do that with his friend.

She’s still there, stuck in her eavesdropping spot, processing and regretting her decisions, when a pressure is on her back.

            “Would you like any help miss?” a man in an all black suit asks in a Scottish accent. His smile would creep her out if she weren’t already gagging on what she heard earlier.

            “No,” she manages to choke out, “No, I-I think I’ll just be leaving.”

            She leaves the store with a strong blush on her cheeks, heels clicking against the linoleum. She only stops when she reaches her car in the parking lot, present be damned.  Bobby will be happy with a gift card to the hardware store like last year.

* * *

 

            “Hahahahaha!!! I can’t believe it!!! I’m dying, I’m dying!! Stick me on a pyre and burn me because I’ve died and gone to Heaven, bwahahaha!!!”

            Charlie is on the floor, tears streaming down her cheeks over Jo’s story.  Sam, on the other hand, is dumbstruck while the green on his face clashes with the orange of his plaid.

            “That was the worse moment in my life,” Jo says, “and the reason why I haven’t been able to look Dean straight in the eye since.”

            “Look’s like Dean hasn’t been able to do anything straight anymore,” Charlie giggles, “since he has a boyfriend and, apparently, a _vibrator_!”

            Sam’s about to release the contents of his stomach, but then he remembers a key detail in the story. The sour grimace on his face is soon replaced with a triumphant grin.  Charlie wipes the tears from her eyes to see the weird look on Sam’s face, and it only takes a second to decide she doesn’t like it.

            “What’s with the face, Sammy,” she says, getting up, “realized you have ten Christmases worth of blackmail material?”

            “No,” he replies, “this is my winner’s face; because I won.  Because Jo’s version of Dean’s boyfriend matches mine.”

            Charlie is about to argue again, when Ash, who’s been very silent since the beginning, beats her to it.

            “Hate to break it to you,” Ash says from behind the bar, “but Jo must have gotten the wrong guy, because Dean’s boyfriend looks nothing like that.”

            All three heads turn to him, and Jo gives him a righteous glare.

            “What are you talkin’ about!?!” she demands, moving forward, “I saw what I saw and heard what I heard.”

            “Too bad it’s wrong,” Ash shrugs, popping the cap off a bottle and sipping the contents, “If you folks want to hear the _real_ identity of Dean’s boyfriend, take a seat.”

            The trio follows his commands, each taking a stool in different manners: Charlie with anxious energy, Sam with wary reluctance, and Jo, with an angry indifference.

            “Now, I remember this moment very clearly, because that was the day Ellen banned me from the bar, and I had unfortunately run out of weed…”

* * *

            Ash moves through the streets of downtown Lawrence on high alert, his open plaid vest swinging in the breeze and his arms banging the rhythm on the invisible drum. With his rockabilly looks, mullet, and slight odor, he has the space to perform his solo as the regular pedestrians move out of his way to save themselves.  He doesn’t care; he’s a man on a mission.

            His friend at the record store alerted him that a rare vinyl of Led Zepplin has made its way into their hands, and he’s willing to part with it for some cash and… _electronic vacuuming_.  Ash, always being a fan for the collectibles, was happy to mosey on over and take what is rightfully his.

            He’s pulls the handle of the door, signaling his arrival, and the entire room turns to look at him: two customers, and his friend at the cash register.  His friend smiles, lollipop turned up at the corner of his mouth. His brown eyes are filled with mirth, and his mouth is full of sugar.

            “Ash!” he greets, clasping the hand the other offers him, “Just the man I was waiting for.”

            “Hey Gabe!” Ash replies, “Do you have it?”

            “Yeah, it’s in the back,” Gabe points with his thumb, “do you mind watching the counter while I go and get it?”

            “Sure thing, bro,” Ash says, moving forward to relieve his friend of his duty.  He doesn’t mind, since the store isn’t crowded at this time of day, and he is doing him a favor by telling him of this find before putting it on the shelves.

            It isn’t that hard: no one comes to him for questions, and no one is buying anything yet. The only problem is that Gabe is taking _forever_ to find his vinyl.

            He’s leaning on the counter, looking out the window, when he spies a cure to his boredom: his friend, Dean Winchester.  Ash’s about to wave through the glass, when he sees his friend’s attention is diverted: focused on his companion.  He’s wearing a rumpled suit and a trench coat… in June.  He moves forward, clasping his hand with Dean’s as they move towards the entrance.

            Now intrigued, Ash lowers himself behind the counter, hiding behind the cash register so Dean doesn’t get startled.  He knows this should work; he’s watched enough nature documentaries while avoiding his actual job.

            “-can’t believe you’ve never listened to any of the good stuff!” Dean says once he opens the door, dragging the man into the store.  He looks amused, eyebrows drawn in in adoration.

            “Thankfully, I have you to correct that,” he chuckles, and Ash has to balance himself since he was not expecting a man like that to have a voice so powerful.  It sounds like he gargles gravel for breakfast, and was once a stand-in for thunder on the night Mother Nature got sick.

            “Yes,” Dean agrees, “yes you do, babe.”  He pulls the other man forward towards one of the back sections, grabbing two pair of headphones that are hooked into a machine.  He slips the first pair onto his friend’s head before pulling the other over his own. “Now,” Dean says, “stand back, and let the music flow.”

            Ash can’t see what Dean pick, but he can definitely see Dean enjoying it.  His companion… well, not so much.  But while Dean is lost in the music, the other man seems to be lost in Dean. His attention is completely on that of the man next to him, music be damned.  It actually startles Ash, to see something so powerful.

            It must be a song or two through the disc when Dean catches on to his neighbor’s interest… or lack thereof.

            “Hey!” he says, “You’re supposed to be drowning in lyrical splendor right now!”

            The other man chuckles, grabbing Dean’s chin and turning it to face him directly: “Sorry, Dean, but you are very distracting.”

            Dean blushes, averting his eyes.  Ash ducks back behind the counter, avoiding the fleeting gaze of the Winchester.  After a safe amount of time has passed, Ash pokes his head out from the safety of his perch, but sees he must have missed them. He tries to spot them, but only realizes they went into the other room; catching only a glimpse of the trench coat tail before it disappears behind the noisy beads that divide the two sections.

            “Hey!” a voice from behind startles him, and he flops onto the counter while his much shorter friend stands behind him, vinyl in hand, “You didn’t eat those pot brownies from Pam’s again, did you?”  There’s a wicked gleam in his eyes.  “Because you know I’d be disappointed if you didn’t bring any to share.”

            “No, Gabe, I’m sober,” Ash grumbles from his position, “unfortunately.”  He picks himself up and turns to his friend.  “What took you so long?”

            “Well,” Gabe starts, “I went back there to find the vinyl, which I did by the way, when I realized I was fresh out of donuts!  So, naturally, I hurried over to Missouri’s bakery down the street to re-stock, knowing my trustworthy, handsome friend was guarding my precious source of income-“

            “Save it, Glazed and Confused,” Ash chuckles, grabbing his prize from Gabe’s sticky clutches, “just take my money.”

            “What about the other part of the deal?” Gabe implores as Ash starts to make his way out.

            “Bring your computer by the Roadhouse later today,” Ash calls back, “I’ll have it fixed so well it’ll be like professional wrestling!" 

* * *

 

            “And that’s the story of how I saved Christmas,” Ash trails off, “Now wait till I tell you the story of when I realized Dean wasn’t as straight as he claimed.”

            He ends his tale, leaving his three friends in a tizzy of confusion over his last words.

            “Okay…” Charlie starts, “forgetting that last thing, Ash’s description matches mine perfectly!”

            Sam grumbles, “Well then we’re back where we started!  We’re tied!”

            The foursome debates for a bit who’s right and who’s wrong, when the next pair of individuals to enter the fight make their way into the Roadhouse.

            “What’s happening here?” a tiny voice asks from the entryway.  All heads turn to see who has barged into their conversation, but smile when they see it’s just Sam’s wife Jess and her TA Kevin.  Usually, in the summer, Kevin would be relaxing. But since he offered to help Jess with her summer classes, he’s been neck deep in work for a while, keeping both of them at the university nearby.

            “We’re having a fight,” Jo informs them, “but, unfortunately, we can’t tell you about what.”

            “Is that so?” Jess crosses her arms, smirking, “What if I can guess what it is?  Can I join?”

            Charlie smirks back, never one to shy away from a challenge: “Go ahead, try.”

            Jess walks forward, stopping when she is facing her moose of a husband.  While perched on the stool he’s almost her height: _almost._   She looks him straight in the eye, enjoying the look of fear he has, trying to keep the secret from her since she knows he’s a terrible liar: to her at least.

            “You were just arguing over who is right about Dean’s boyfriend.”

            Every face except hers is slack-jawed.  Jess, however, wears a proud look of a woman who is too smart and too beautiful to exist.

            “How?” Charlie asks, “How did you know?”

            “Easy,” Jess says, “I overheard Sam a couple of weeks ago flipping out in our room.  Plus, he butt-dialed me during one of the stories. I loved how you saved Christmas by the way, Ash.”

            Jo and Charlie glare at Sam as he sheepishly turns off his phone, while Ash just points his bottle in her direction with a nod.

            “Dean’s boyfriend?” Kevin asks, “you mean that guy I spotted him at the university with?”

            Now all heads turn to the kid, who wishes he never spoke in the first place.  The group converges on him like vultures on a carcass, or like popular kids on the new kid in high school.  Thankfully, this group isn’t as bloodthirsty as the latter.

            “What do you know?” Jo demands, “Tell us!”

            “Free us from our stubbornness!” Charlie pleads.

            “W-well,” Kevin says, “I remember seeing them in the quad…”

* * *

 

            Kevin didn’t usually take time for himself.  He grew up in a house of movement.  His body always doing something: studying, practicing, and on the rare occasion, sleeping. His mother was a flurry of action.   She worked to support Kevin’s academic and extracurricular endeavors, ferrying him from lesson to lesson. Yet she always found time to do little things that showed her love for him, no matter what he did or didn’t do.

            Now that he’s grown a bit older, become a bit wiser, he appreciates the moments where he can just sit down and pause his mind.

            Kevin just finished up helping a student with his paper for Professor Winchester-Moore’s class in Psychology. Thankfully, he was able to direct the student in the right direction just before he had to go to work at the Weiner Hut.

            So now Kevin sits under a shady oak tree, watching the other people on campus milling about. He sees random students, in various states all around the grassy knoll.  He sees a couple doing some heavy petting on a picnic blanket. He sees a guy plucking the opening chords of “Wonderwall” on his guitar.  He even sees drama geek Marie performing a monologue to her audience of one- her best friend Maeve.

            But what interests him now is the food truck.

            Usually, the _Bayou Bus_ has packed up for the day, already moving on to their next location.  But it looks like Benny Lafitte, its owner, chef, and sole worker, has other plans. This deviance in schedule irks Kevin’s curiosity, and the time usually spent shutting down is put on hold as his mind wanders through the many reasons as to why Benny would leave his truck here when it’s not profitable.

            The answer, surprisingly, comes in the form of Dean Winchester.  It’s surprising to see Dean on campus when he’s without Sam, and usually they are here to visit Jess.  But Dean is sans Sam and is heading towards the _Bayou Bus_. Benny seems to see him from his position in the truck, and sticks his arm out in a wave.

            It’s hard to see, but it looks like Dean is… smiling.

            Kevin can’t help but stare at the oddity of this situation.  He had no idea Dean and Benny knew each other.

            Granted, when he sees Dean finally reach the food truck, he _really_ doesn’t know how close they know each other.

            Benny sticks his head out of the truck to meet Dean, and Dean pulls him forward into a kiss. This simple kiss, short and sweet, made what the teens on the blanket look like amateurs.

            Kevin can only stare as Benny hops out of the window of his truck, grabbing Dean’s hand as they move further onto the university grounds.

            At least Kevin found a very easy way to shut his mind down.

* * *

 

            “It sucked,” Kevin admits, “I was so lost I spent an hour extra goofing off.  It totally threw off my study schedule!”

            Charlie and Ash looked sullen as Jo and Sam gave each other high-fives, celebrating their victory.

            “We’re right, you’re wrong!” Jo crows, “Dean likes Benny’s dong!”

            “Never doubt a Winchester!” Sam mocks, “Many have, all were wrong!”

            Charlie pouts, crossing her arms and leaning further back into her seat.  “There is no way Dean is dating this Benny guy, I know what I saw.”

            “I do too,” Ash agrees.

            Sam just turns to his wife. “Jess, you work on campus,” he says, “you must have seen Dean with Benny?”

            “Yes Sam, you’re right,” she says, “I have seen Dean on campus… but not with Benny. I’ve seen him with Professor Castiel.”

            Jo and Sam pause in their revelry, now turning towards the latest development.

            “Who?”

            “Professor Castiel,” Jess explains, “he’s the new philosophy professor the school hired in the winter. I saw Dean and him together quite a few times, but never knew how to bring it up.  I thought that was the guy you saw Dean with at the farmer’s market?”

            “No,” Sam says, “I definitely saw Benny.”

            “Look’s like there’s trouble in paradise,” Ash jokes.

            “And just like that our horse is back in the race,” Charlie says, earning her a glare from Jo, “Jess, if you will.”

            “Alright,” Jess starts, “Now when I first saw them together, it was early in the morning…”

* * *

 

            Jess didn’t know how her friends convinced her to do it.  Maybe it was the lack of caffeine in her system so early in the morning. Maybe they were just really good at persuasion.  Or maybe it was the chance to see two very genetically gifted males sweaty and muscle-y.

            She may be a married woman, but she’s a married woman with eyes.

            She sits on a hill next to the gravel path the university offers with her three colleagues. There’s Professor Ruby Jones, one of the best in the theater department.  Professor Madison Heart of the zoology department sits to Jess’s left. Finally, on her right, is Professor Sarah Blake of the art history department.  They finally managed to drag her out into the fields to get a glimpse of Professor Castiel Novak and his running partner.

            Jess has had few conversations with the newest professor to grace their halls, but from her interactions she’s surprised he has these many girls fawning over him. Sure, he has a nice face and beautiful eyes, but he always dressed in such ill-fitting suits she didn’t think he had any muscles.

            But boy was she wrong.

            Coming down the path she can see Professor Novak, and from the tight shirt and shorts she can clearly see what the other women were lusting after.  He might look sweaty, but it’s clear he hasn’t even begun to call it quits.

            Which is why she finds it odd that he turns around to jog in place, as if he’s waiting for someone.

            That someone slowly pulling up the rear is someone Jess can clearly recognize even from her vantage point.

            “Dean?” she gasps, hand flying over her mouth as the man in question trots over to Castiel.

            “Jessie,” Ruby looks at her, “you know him?”

            “Know him?” Jess looks at her, “he’s my brother-in-law!”

            The three women turn back to look at Dean, and one by one they recall the various times Jess has introduced them when he visited with Sam.

            “You didn’t tell us you had an in with Professor Sexy over there,” Sarah chastises.

            “Until today _I_ didn’t even know I had an in,” Jess mutters.

            Dean finally makes it to Castiel, who just smiles at how exhausted Dean looks.  Dean falls backwards, landing in the soft grass next to the pathway.  He looks up at Castiel through half-lidded eyes, extending a hand as if to say ‘join him’.

            Castiel rolls his eyes, but offers up his hand.

            Which, he realizes, is a big mistake.

            Dean grabs the hand, yanking down on it hard enough for Castiel to fall on Dean.  Than, with the element of surprise, Dean manages to roll them over, so Dean is now straddling Castiel on the field.

            Even from far away, the group of women can tell what the two men decided to do next, and look away to give them privacy.

            “It figures,” Madison laments, “the best ones are always gay, taken… or both!”

            The others can only nod, agreeing that even though they can’t have him, they will still objectify him no matter what.

            Jess remains silent, however, internally freaking out over discovering her brother-in-law is manhandling the newest professor… and wondering how long he’s been getting it in with him.

* * *

 

            “I think the worst part was explaining to Meg Masters in Chemistry afterwards how Professor Castiel was no longer an option on her mission to sleep with as many faculty members as possible,” Jess finished her story, crossing her legs under the table.

            The group has now moved to one of the bigger tables, each one taking a seat opposite over which camp they were in.  Jess, Charlie, and Ash were on the right while Sam, Kevin, and Jo took the left.

            Charlie dropped her head on the table with a thud.  “Will there be no end to our uncertainty!?!” she asks the mahogany.

            “This is too confusing,” Jo mutters, hands massaging her temples, “I can’t take this anymore, I’m not even sure I want to believe Dean’s in a relationship at this point.”

            “We can’t stop,” Sam bangs his fist on the table, alerting the rest of the gang to his next statement, “We need to figure this out.  Dean will be here any minute now, and we need to agree on which man Dean is dating before he tells us.”

            “You’re discussing Dean’s boyfriend?”

            A chorus of screams and shrieks breaks from the table, as every head turns to see Chuck and Garth having made their way in from the outside world, also here for Dean’s announcement.

            “You two know as well?” Charlie asks, “Is there even a point for Dean to announce what he’s done a horrible job at keeping secret?”

            “I don’t even know what there is to discuss,” Chuck tells them, “from what I’ve seen, the guy is sweet, and treats Dean like he’s the world.”

            “Yeah,” Garth agrees, “plus he’s ready to do anything for the man, Dean could tell him to jump off a bridge and he’d jump.”

            “We’re not fighting over if we like the idea of Dean dating a man,” Jo snarks, “we’re civilized people, we know love is love.  We’re debating just as to _whom_ Dean is dating.”

            Garth and Chuck look at each other, confusion in both their eyes.

            “How can you guys be fighting over this?” Chuck asks.

            “Yeah,” Garth agrees, “I thought it was obvious Dean’s dating-“

            “Benny Lafitte.”

            “Castiel Novak.”

            Groans erupt from the rest of the room, as they realize they have found themselves back where they began yet again, and the anomaly known as “Dean’s boyfriend” is further and further away from being solved.

            “Go ahead,” Charlie laments, “go, tell your stories.  I’m going to grab some vodka and a shot glass to ease my growing headache.”

            The two exchange glances, seeing who should go first.  Garth loses, and reluctantly begins his tale.

            “Well, I found out late at night-like…”

* * *

 

            Garth sits in the ranger’s cabin, minding his own business.  He has the radio station turned on to some smooth jazz, and attends to the needles in his hand where he makes his puppet, Mr. Fizzles, a wife. In the late hours of the forest night, it’s the little things that Garth appreciates.

            Too bad he doesn’t have time to enjoy the little things.

            “Ranger Garth, do you read me, over,” a voice sounds from his walkie-talkie, which was left next to the radio on the table.

            Garth sighs, placing the project down before turning off the radio and picking up the communication device.

            “Yes Ranger Hael, I read you,” he says, “what’s the matter?”

            “There seems to be a camp whose fire hasn’t been put out,” she reports to him, “it’s in Lot 47, under the name Benny Lafitte.  I want you to go and put it out.”

            “But if you know where it is, can’t you do it?” Garth implores, wanting more than anything to stay indoors. Last time he went out on a night as muggy as this he came back bit more than a bone in a dog pound.

            “I’m not there, I got the call from the next lot over from a Mr. Zachariah Adler,” she informs him, “Besides, I have my own hands busy.  Some kids were seen smoking nearby the Raft Rental shack and I need to find them. Let’s both prevent some forest fires, over.”

            Hael cuts the connection, and Garth reluctantly grabs his flashlight to head out and deal with the problem.

            The forest, though small, is packed with trees: so much so, it makes it hard to navigate from time to time. Thankfully Garth has spent so much time in these woods he knows them like the back of his hand. It’s why he loves being a ranger. Ever since he was a kid he would always spend his days out in the forest, jumping over roots and climbing up branches. The trees were his best friends before he met the Winchesters and everyone else.  It only seemed natural that he follow his passion and protect the place he felt the most at home at.

            After taking a short mental stroll through memory lane, Garth finds himself just outside Lot 47. Hael was right, though, the campers in this lot forgot to put their fire out before heading off to bed. Garth sighs, ready to move to save the forest yet again, when a rustling sound startles the quiet night.

            Garth crouches behind the bushes, watching as the sound is none other than the tent of Lot 47 opening up. The flap flips open, and out steps Benny Lafitte.  He remembers the man, as he catered last week’s Ranger Reunion.  The only difference from the last time he saw him is that Benny now has a certain _nude_ element to him.

            Garth blushes, horrified to catch this man in such an awkward position.  He doesn’t know where to look, but he knows it isn’t where his eyes are drawn.

            Man it must be hard for him to walk!

            Benny, it seems, has come out to do what Garth was sent to do, as he takes a canteen lying around and dumps it over the roaring flame, reducing it to ashy embers.  He kicks some dirt over the remaining kindle to completely put out the fire.  Finally, he stands there in satisfaction of his work.

            It’s then that another sound breaks through the forest night.

            “Benny,” the voice says, “come back to bed!  It’s _freezing_!”

            Now, Garth may not be able to see, as he was forced to turn off the light to keep his presence unknown, and the fire was put out, but he knows that voice anywhere. He heard it that fateful day he fell from the branch of a yellow oak, only to land on top of the rough-and-tumble fourteen year old.  He heard it tell him his Mr. Fizzles was lame, only to be caught smiling at his act for the children. It’s the voice he remembers congratulating him at the party thrown when he was accepted to his job. And it’s the voice he heard last week tell him he needs to change his carburetor.

            The only question is: why was Dean in a tent with a naked Benny?

            This query irked Garth all the way back to the ranger station, distracted him from finishing Mrs. Fizzles, and kept him occupied straight to the morning.

* * *

 

            “I think you beat me for the grossest story outing Dean,” Jo says, tipping the neck of the bottle in Garth’s direction.  Garth gladly accepts this honor with pride.

            “I think if we keep telling these stories, I’m going to end up bleaching my brain,” Sam mutters, scared as to what the next story may hold.

            “Relax Sam,” Chuck informs him, “I can tell you for a fact that I did not find Dean in a state of undress at all.”

            Sam visibly relaxes in his chair.

            “I didn’t mean my story isn’t dirty either,” Chuck chuckles, grinning at how quickly Sam became discomforted again.

            “Please, Chuck,” Jess smiles, “tell us what you’ve seen.”

            “Well…” Chuck says, “it was an ordinary day in the local library…”

* * *

            Chuck sat at the information desk on the library’s second floor, book in one hand while the other played with the flask he stored in his drawer.  It was a slow day, like every day in this age of digital bookstores. He might be working in a dying medium but he loved it!  …If only he could actually get published…

            “Chuck!” his co-worker, Ezekiel whispered to him, carefully observing the ‘no talking’ rule, “boss wants you to find something.”

            “What does he want this time?” Chuck asks, waiting for the most outlandish book out there. It’s like their boss, Metatron, made it his mission to find the books no one wants and devouring them like there was no tomorrow.  He claimed he valued the subtext, but from what Chuck could read the books were just horrible calamities where the author manipulated every event to fit their whims and fancy.

            “He wants you to get Sandansky’s Seraphim by Eric Kripke,” Ezekiel informed him, “and watch out, Becky came in about five minutes ago and I don’t know where she is.”

            “Thanks for the head’s up,” Chuck tells him, and with that, they part ways.  Ezekiel back to returning the books to their rightful place while Chuck makes his way up towards the third floor.  He’s heard of the Kripke book, putting it up in the Fantasy section a couple of months ago.  It should be an easy find, so long as he doesn’t run into Becky.

            She’s a nice girl, really, but Chuck made the mistake of telling her one long and drunk day that he was writer. One thing led to another and, well, he offered to let her read his first manuscript.  She was overjoyed, and when she finished couldn’t stop praising his skill.  He was flattered at first, but soon it started to get a bit… fanatical.  She would harass him on when he would be finished with the next one, and her trying to sway him to her headcanons during his writing process.

            Now, he tries and avoid her as much as possible.

            He finally gets to the aisle he needs, eyes scanning the shelves to find E. Kripke when he hears it: a moan.

            Chuck stops in his tracks, mind pausing in its buzzed pursuit.  He turns behind him at the closed closet door, and moves closer to it. That’s when he hears it again, a moan: a _man’s_ moan.

            This moan is followed by a very rough, very ragged “ _Caaaass!”_ and Chuck is transported back to a time he was look-out for his friend Dean as he and Lisa Braeden got it on in the janitor’s closet.

            He can’t believe Dean would do… _that_ , in his workspace! If he gets caught, it’s Chuck’s head on the chopping block.  He can’t lose this job!  Where else can he read and drink and get _paid_ for it!

            Chuck doesn’t know what to do. He knows he can’t let anyone see them, but he doesn’t want to walk in and see Dean Winchester and his lady friend in the buff.  So, he does what he used to do in high school.  He takes up a post nearby, eyes darting around, on the look out for anybody.  Chuck isn’t sure how long he can do this, but he hopes Dean finishes up quickly.

            He stands sentry for around five minutes, thankful that no one has stumbled upon them yet. While his eyes stay alert for any sort of movement, his mind wanders towards the name Dean was chanting as if it was a prayer.

            He racks his brain for the identity, but only one name actually comes to mind: Cassie Robinson. But that can’t be because the reporter for Lawrence Daily dumped him two years ago by singing telegram. He’s surprised those were still around, but when Dean answered the door the day Chuck was helping him with a project, the messenger delivered the depressing message in a toe-tapping manner.

            Let’s just say the night ended in a way Chuck couldn’t remember.

            He’s so distracted by his thoughts; he almost misses the sound of the knob being jiggled. Chuck takes that as his signal to make haste, but stays close-by to learn the identity of the mystery girl.

            Dean exits, a triumphant smirk on his face as he brushes off his black t-shirt.  He takes a quick look around, satisfied that he’s “alone”, beckons to his partner to follow him.

            Chuck is more than shocked when a very flustered, very rumpled Castiel Novak follows him out of the closet.

            Chuck’s had a few interactions with the man: discussing their opinions on a number of books (they had similar taste when it came to reading material) and always having a laugh at something unusual.

            Dean grabs Castiel by the hand and pulls him in the opposite direction, towards the stairs. Chuck only comes out of the hiding spot when he hears the heavy footsteps of the pair fading away.

            He moves away from his position, breathing a sigh of relief now that the danger has passed. But he’s gonna have to confront Dean soon about never bringing people to the library, it really distracts him from his job.

            “Hey Chuck!”

            Chuck jumps, startled by the tiny blonde woman who snuck up on him.

            He’s also going to rip him a new one for trapping him with his biggest fan.

* * *

 

            “Ugh why do all these stories end with Dean’s dick in someone?” Sam groans, hands clumped into his hair.

            “Actually,” Jo points out, “from my story, it’s more likely that Dean’s actually the one who’s taking it rather than giving-“

            “Lalala, I don’t hear you,” Sam moves his hands from his hair to his ears, sticking fingers into the earholes.  Jess just sighs and rubs the back of her childish husband.

            “You can’t hide from the fact forever, Dean,” Charlie says, “sooner or later you’ve got to face the truth about Dean’s rock bottom-“

            “Agh!” Sam stands, pushing the chair back in anguish, “if you guys don’t stop, I’m going to call the police, tell them you murdered my peace of mind.”

            “Don’t need to, I’m already here.”

            The newest voice to join the chorus is that of Jody Mills, who stands proud in her Sheriff’s uniform at the entrance.  Sam blushes, not realizing she was there.

            “So what’s this about Dean being a bottom?” she asks, easing further into the building with a strong swagger.

            Jo gives her the rundown: “We’re trying to figure out whether Dean’s dating Benny Lafitte or Castiel Novak.”   She’s not nervous about outing Dean at this point, as there’s a very good chance Jody might already know about what’s going on.

            “There’s a question,” Jody asks, “I was sure it was Benny.”

            Half the room groans, the other side cheers.

            “Since it’s become customary at this point,” Kevin adds on, “can you tell us how you found out?”

            “No problem,” she agrees, taking a chair, turning it so she’s sitting with her chest against the backrest, “It all started on my day off…” 

* * *

 

            “Fourty-seven… forty-eight… forty-nine… _fifty._ ”

            “Wow Jody,” a black man in his forty whistles, “ten sets of fifty, I think that’s a new record.”

            “Really Victor,” she wipes her brow with the towel he has for her, “the way I see it I still have a lot to improve on.”

            “If that wasn’t your best,” Victor offers her a hand to help her up, she accepts, “than I would hate to see your worst.”

            Jody just winks at him: “You’ll never see my worst because I am too amazing to fail.”

            The duo laughs, moving deeper into the gym to continue their workout.  On days off, Victor Henriksen and Jody like to get together to work out, keep up their muscle tone, and have a fun time doing it. They enjoy each other’s company, as Victor really knows how to make Jody laugh, while Jody can motivate like no one can, getting Victor to go that extra mile.

            They are just about to begin the rowing machine, when something in the weights section distracts Victor.

            “Vic,” Jody snaps her fingers, “you with me?”

            “Sorry Jody,” he apologizes, “but… is that Dean Winchester over there?”

            Jody gives him a weird look for a second, before bursting out into a loud laugh.  She wipes a tear from her eye: “Good one, Victor, ya got me. Now let’s get back to our work-out: the town needs its police in tip-top shape!”

            Victor pouts. “I’m being serious,” he says, “he’s over there spotting some guy in the back.”

            Now, Jody knows Dean’s as likely to be in a gym as the moon is likely to be out at noon, but she also knows Victor’s serious tone from his joking tone.  She’s ready to tell him he’s mistaken when she actually sees the familiar bowlegs peeking out of red shorts.

            “Well I’ll be,” Jody gapes, “looks like the apocalypse is on nigh.”

            “Should we go over there and see if that boy has a fever?” Victor asks, ready to move away from the rowing machine.  To be quite honest, he’s always hated this part of the workout.

            “No, no,” she says, placing her hand on his bicep, “let’s just… investigate from afar.”

            From what the pair of police officers could see, Dean was helping the man underneath the large weights with his reps, whispering words of encouragement they could only guess from how his lips moved.

            Now, the reason they were curious because, as officers of the law, they needed to pay attention to what didn’t fit: Dean, willingly in a gym, was the oddity of the day. Jody remembers a time when Dean full on laughed in Sam’s face when the younger brother suggested he try and work out if he wasn’t going to eat healthy.  Dean swore he would never be caught dead in a gym and, well- he looks more alive then ever!

            “Who’s that guy he’s working with?” Victor asks, drawing Jody’s eyes from Dean to the man below him. From their position, it’s hard to get a good look at the man besides his big meaty thighs.  Thankfully, he finishes his lifting and returns the weights to their hooks.  He slides out of the seat, leaning up while Dean rounds the area to meet him at the front.

            “I think it’s that guy from the food truck,” Victor says with squinted eyes, “you know, the good one.”

            Jody focuses more, and she agrees with her friend that the man talking to Dean can be none other than Benny Lafitte, owner and proprietor of the _Bayou Bus_.

            “How do they know each other?” Victor asks the main question on Jody’s mind.

            They get their answer when Dean, after waiting for Benny to finish toweling off, offers his hand to him. Benny grabs it, letting Dean help pull him up.  But what he doesn’t know is that Dean pulls him closer than needed, giving him a quick peck on his lips before he releases Benny’s hands.

            “Apparently,” Jody says, “they know each other in the biblical sense.”

            “Didn’t know he swung that way,” Victor comments from the side.  Jody turns to him, and smacks him on the arm.

            “Give them their privacy,” she says, “we have an exercise to get back to.”  She then begins the machine, counting the strokes she does. After ten, Victor reluctantly joins in.

* * *

 

            “That was a good day,” Jody reminisces, “I beat my personal record on the elliptical. Victor and I were so happy, we treated ourselves to donuts.”

            The circle of friends clap at Jody’s achievement, always proud of their city’s sheriff, but soon quiet down to discuss the heart of the matter.

            “So it’s agreed,” Sam begins, “Dean is dating Benny and there is no question to it?”

            “I can’t just forget what I saw, Sam,” Jess tells him, “Dean is dating Castiel, no matter what the numbers say.”

            “Come on!” Jo jumps up, “the verdict stands 5 to 4, in favor of Benny!  The case is closed!”

            “Why darling, you do pay attention when I talk.”

            Because at this point they really should be expecting another person, no one is surprised when the British accent lilts throughout the room.  Jo turns to face the entryway, smile in place.

            “Balthazar!” she says, rushing into the open arms of her boyfriend, meeting him for a heated kiss. They get so lost in each other, it takes several coughs, some shouting, and Charlie knocking over a chair to break them from their embrace.

            “Whoops,” Jo chuckles, wrapped in the arms of Balthazar, “got carried away, it’s been so long. Why are you back?”

            “Well,” Balthazar says, “I finished my case early when I got the message about Dean’s big announcement. So I hopped on the red eye to get back over here.”

            “You’re just in time,” Chuck tells him, “Dean’s still not here yet.”

            Balthazar moves his arm around Jo, but rotates her so now they are both facing the group. “Does anyone know what he wants to say?”

            “Well,” Charlie says, “we think he’s going to tell us about his boyfriend.”

            “Oh,” Balthazar smiles, “he’s finally bringing Cassie around?”

            Jo groans, burying her face into her boyfriend’s shoulder while Charlie pumps her fist in the air.

            Sam lets his head drop: “Come on! We were _sooo_ close!”

            Balthazar just looks at the group in confusion before turning to Jo.  “Is there something I’m missing here?”

            “Nothing!” Charlie crows, “All you’ve done is giving us irrefutable proof that Dean is dating none other than Castiel Novak!”

            “I have?” Balthazar asks again, “How?”

            Charlie falters a bit, but explains further: “By saying how he’s going to introduce ‘Cassie’. Which means you’ve obviously had a conversation with the both of them.”

            “Castiel and I are close,” Balthazar admits, “we were roommates in college, and I let him stay at my house in Essex for a bit, but he didn’t tell me about his boyfriend. I saw him and Dean a couple of days before I left on my trip.”

            Now the rest of the room is groaning, having to suffer through another story.

            Jo takes Balthazar’s hand and leads him towards a seat: “Come on Balthy, tell us what you saw.”

            “Okay,” he agrees, “it was a boring day, nothing going on…”

* * *

 

            Balthazar was tired. He’s been poring over the case files for his company’s lawsuit, reading document after document. But after the fifth eyewitness account his eyes started to go blurry.  To relax a bit, and to get away from the stuffiness of the office, he decided to go for a walk.

            He needed to get out of that office: it was slowly killing him.  Yes he was paid well, but every year he had to give up some of his sanity. Thankfully, ever since he met Jo, he’s been able to relax more.  Before her, though, he was a mess.

            It’s not his fault he works with such idiots.  His boss, Michael, is such a tool.  Calling him into his office, without care to what he was doing, just to show off his latest shiny object.  The only reason _he’s_ the one being sent to London is because he didn’t show up to his dinner party last week (Balthazar had something better to do – anything else).

            Then there was Raphael, who kept shooting him glares from across the hall.  He saw this trip as a great opportunity and not the punishment it really was, and was envious he got it over him.  It didn’t help that the personal office walls were made of glass. He can’t count the number of times he looked up from his laptop to see dark eyes of burning coal stabbing him from afar.

            And if his co-worker wasn’t harassing him enough, the janitor made it even worse. He’s Michael’s ex-con brother, Nick. But in prison his nickname was ‘Lucifer’ (as he liked to brag).  He had it in for Balthazar since Day One when he scoffed at his attempt at a joke. Now, he’s fallen on his ass for the sixth time that month because Nick ‘forgot’ to leave the yellow sign out after mopping.

            The only person he actually cared to talk to in that office, Hannah, his assistant, was unfortunately out that week.  She had to attend her grandfather’s funeral, so Michael had Anna from human resources step in for the time being.  It would be fine… if Anna weren’t pissed at him for that unfortunate drunken mistake at the Christmas Party under the mistletoe.  When she expected him to start a relationship, he had to let her off easy. Now he, and by extension Jo, were not her favorite people.

            But out in the “fresh” air of the city, he can let go of all his problems for the time being. Even though he’ll miss Jo, he can’t wait to be back in his home country of England: away from his work (not really, but at least the people from it).  He’s ready to win the case, but to also visit some of his favorite places from when he was young.

            And speaking of a blast from the past, Balthazar sees one sitting in a café’s outside seating: his college roommate Castiel!  Castiel was an exchange student at Oxford, coming from Pontiac, Illinois to study Philosophy with a minor in English.  He remembers the fun he had with the lad, partying all night and… partying all day. It’s a surprise, really, that they were able to graduate with as high as marks as they did.

            They were close, staying in contact thanks to today’s advancements in communication, but for awhile they drifted apart.  Especially when Castiel did his backpacking tour across Europe while Balthazar moved to America to start on his career as a corporate lawyer, getting scouted by Heavenly Helpers, Inc. after graduation from law school.

            But the fates must have had some plan, as his closest friend has returned to him at last. He’s just the man he needs too, because Balthazar knows Cassie’s always in for a good ranting session, even if he doesn’t know the blokes he’s shit-talking.

            Balthazar’s about to call for his attention when he notices Cassie’s smile get a bit wider, his head turned in the direction of who he must have been waiting for.

            It’s then that Balthazar notices Dean.  He remembers him, being convinced he was Jo’s boyfriend at first until he saddled up to him during the Roadhouse’s happy hour to tell him she wanted to hook up, and that he’ll distract her mother.  It was the weirdest introduction, but Balthazar got the message and met Jo in the backroom for a little hands-on action.

            Unfortunately her mother barging in with a shotgun over her shoulder cut the night short.

            He wasn’t able to face her in a week, but couldn’t get her out of his mind.  So he caught her late at night to ask her on a date, surprising her while she took out the trash.  It didn’t go over well: she flipped him into the Hefty bags. But once he regained consciousness and was able to explain himself, she happily agreed.

            Dean, from what Balthazar knows, isn’t the type to drink lattes with strangers: he’d rather chug booze with his buddies.  So what was he doing with his Cassie?

            Dean places a saucer and cup in front of Castiel before sitting across from him with his own cup. He seems to have the same expression on his face as Castiel does.  All Balthazar can do is watch as they drink from their respective beverages.

            ‘ _This just keeps getting weirder and weirder_ ,’ Balthazar thinks, observing the two.

            But then things start to fall into place when Castiel reaches out to grab Dean’s hand, slowly bringing the knuckles to his lips in a tender kiss.  It’s only then does Balthazar realize how rude he is being. He blushes for the first time in a long time, embarrassed to have been watching for this intimate display of affection. He turns on his heel and heads back to his office, having enough of the fresh air.

            Balthazar thinks he’ll wait to contact Castiel again once he’s back from England.

* * *

 

            “And I now don’t have to,” Balthazar continues, “because he’ll be coming here soon enough!”

            What Balthazar expects is uproarious laughter over his little joke, followed by another kiss from his girlfriend.  But when the discordant notes of anguish are the only things to hit his ear, he is once more confused.

            “Did I say something I shouldn’t have?” he asks the assembled group.

            “No,” Garth tells him exasperatedly, “you told us what we asked of you.  Thank you.”

            “It’s just,” Charlie continues, “this problem keeps going around in a circle, and we are running out of alcohol to keep me calm!”

            “What’re ya idjits blathering about?  And more importantly: why are you wasting alcohol?”

            Bobby stands at the back entrance, having come in expecting no one else to be in the bar except his step-children and his wife.  Instead he sees a town council meeting where just yesterday was a puke-bucket.

            The room goes quiet, not sure whether or not they should tell Bobby. Sure, it was okay discussing Dean’s queerness with each other because they all knew Dean wasn’t as straight as they were led to believe through series of unfortunate circumstances. But Bobby was like Dean’s second father, taking care of the Winchester boys when John was too drunk to even go to work in the mornings.  If anyone was going to tell him, it _should_ be Dean.

            Charlie looks at Sam, who looks to Jess, who looks at Jo, who glances at Jody.  Jody sends Kevin a look, who silently pleads with Garth, who puppy-eyes Ash, who stares blankly at a wall and-

            “Will somebody answer me or have y’all gone mute?”

            Sam sighs, before deciding he will be the one to tell Bobby.  It is Dean’s news to tell, but Bobby is too stubborn to give up when the crowd is this big.

            “Y’see, Bobby,” Sam starts, “we were all fighting because… well… we all have different _ideas_ about just who Dean is… dating.”

            Bobby just stares at Sam, processing the information, or lack thereof.  Everyone else waits with baited breath, hoping he’ll accept it for what it is.

            “Y’mean you idjits can’t wrap your head around Dean’s boyfriend?”

            As if they were a hive mind, each brain in this ragtag little group collectively stops.

            “Bu-wha-how did you know?” Jo splutters.

            Bobby shoots her a look. “Please, that kid is like my son. I knew he wasn’t as straight as he believed when he came home from 2nd grade with a rubber band on his finger saying he married Aaron Bass during recess.”

            There’s varying reactions: Jess, Sam, Jody, and Garth coo at the adorableness, while the rest laugh at the story itself.

            “How come this is the first I’m hearing of this?” Sam asks his surrogate father.

            Bobby’s smile turns downwards at the question: “Your father wasn’t the most… understanding. I helped Dean hide his feelings as best he could, thankfully the drunk never found out.”

            Sam nods, remembering how their father felt about, and he quotes, ‘those fucking fairies’. Maybe it was for the best Dean wasn’t out and proud until now.

            “So Bobby,” Chuck says, drawing the attention towards him, “if you know about his boyfriend, you must also know who he is right?”

            All eyes are on Bobby now.

            “Well sure, son,” Bobby grumbles, “I know the man, I was there when they first met.  Next to my wife, Benny Lafitte is the best damn cook in this town!”

* * *

 

            Bobby sits at his desk, newspaper in hand while he skims through it.  It’s been a slow news week, and if he has to read about how Rufus Turner’s cows have been knocked over one more time he’s going to go do some cow-tipping himself later tonight.

            Not only has it been a slow news day, it’s been a slow day in general.  It’s already midday and only one car has been in: all it needed was an oil change.  It was getting so slow he already sent the Milligan kid home early so he can start his homework or do whatever it is teenagers do.  Do they even have homework on the weekend?  Does Bobby care?

            He’s even considering closing up shop in a couple of minutes, and he’s about to do so to. However, just as he was getting up to tell Dean, the only other mechanic with a shift today, a red light shines over the door to his office.

            The light was installed back when Bobby decided to take a more back-seat position in his family’s auto shop. It’s to tell him when a truck or large vehicle enters the shop.  Usually it flashes once or twice before the mechanic attending to the automobile clicks the button to turn it off.

            Bobby returns to his seat, picking up his discarded newspaper, and continues where he left off.

            Or he would, if that damned red light wasn’t shining brighter than Rudolph on Christmas.

            Bobby slams the paper down on the desk, looking up at the damned light that should have been shut off ages ago. There can only be one reason it’s still on: Dean must have been injured on the job, and can’t turn it off.

            The idjit.

            Bobby once again lifts himself from his chair and exits his office, leaving his door open so the light shines outside as well, tinting the surrounding area in a red shade.

            The owner of Singer Auto doesn’t see blood… he doesn’t even see his worker.  All he sees is a big truck in the middle of the workplace, with bright letters spelling out _The Bayou Bus_. This really throws Bobby for a loop, as he’s never seen this thing before in his life.

            While his vision is focused on the garish truck, his ears pick up the echoed laughter sounding from behind. Bobby follows the sounds until he rounds the side of the truck to see Dean speaking to what must be the owner of this monster.

            “A-hem,” he coughs, getting the attention of both Dean and the other man and-

            Wow.  Is he big.

            “B-bobby,” Dean chokes out, a blush staining his cheeks, “what-um-what’s the matter?”

            The flustered routine Dean is throwing off knocks Bobby for a bit, but he shakes his head and points to his open door.  “Some idjit forgot to turn the light off.”

            Dean cranes his neck to see the edges of the red light’s shine, and rushes to fix it: “Sorry, I-uh, must have been… distracted.”

            “And what could distract you?” Bobby asks, even though he knows the answer is standing right in front of him.

            “Sorry sir,” the man says in a thick, Cajun accent, “I just got caught up in a lovely discussion with Dean here – I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

            “I don’t see how anything about this boy could be interesting,” Bobby says, ignoring the cry of protest from Dean, “but you’re sorry and that’s all that matters.  Well, that and the damned light being off.”

            Benny laughs while Dean squirms in embarrassment.

            “I think I’ll come back in a little bit, when the truck’s done,” Benny says to the duo. He turns to address Dean more personally.  “And remember: next Saturday, 8 o’clock.”  He leaves with his boots pounding across the concrete.

            Bobby moves to stand next to his son, who is lost in his thoughts, staring at where Benny disappeared.

            “Be careful,” Bobby tells him, breaking him out of his reverie.  Dean turns to him, expecting more clarification.  “I don’t want to bust up a client’s lip just because he broke your heart,” Bobby explains, “especially since I don’t want to end up on the wrong side of this guy.”

            Dean just splutters, trying to defend himself but failing in his embarrassment. Bobby just chuckles, clapping him on the back before moving back towards his office.

            “Now git back to work!”

* * *

 

            “I was there when it all went down,” Bobby tells his captured audience, “Singer’s Auto Shop is where Benny met Dean and the Roadhouse is where they will be telling us they are officially dating.”

            The crowd is silent for a beat, until all hell breaks loose.

            The turmoil, anger, annoyance, and exasperation has built up until this moment, and now the emotions are spewing everywhere like a volcanic eruption.  There’s a fire in everyone’s soul as they argue for dominance, voices getting louder and louder.  Those on Benny’s camp use Bobby’s story as their smoking gun, while the members of Castiel’s camp fight with their last breath for glory. It seems like the fighting was going to go from verbal to physical in a matter of minutes, until a sharp whistle cuts through the air.

            “Can somebody please tell me why I am up before the sun has even gone down?”

            Ellen stands at the bottom of the steps, giving each and every person in her restaurant a look that says ‘If you even think of moving, be prepared to die.’

            Instantly the fighting stops, as everyone values their lives more than who’s right and who’s wrong.

            “Well,” she demands, “I ain’t gettin’ any younger.”

            The group tries to silently communicate who should be the sacrifice, until it’s ultimately decided they send Jo to explain the situation.  There’s no way Ellen would kill her own flesh and blood… they hoped.

            “Well, mom,” she mutters, scratching her neck with her hand, “we were having a… _heated discussion_ , over the identity of the man who Dean Winchester may or may not be seeing.”

            “That’s all?” she looks around the group, as each one nods their heads like naughty kindergartners being caught by the teacher.  “Well, shoot,” she says, hands on her hips, “if I had known that I would have saved you all the trouble.  I know the man, I was there when they first met!”

            Bobby’s about to protest, but a quick look from Sam has him biting his tongue, realizing he’d rather have his balls than have his say.

            “It was a packed night in March…” 

* * *

            Ellen couldn’t believe the crowd the Roadhouse was dragging in.  All the tables were filled and the bar was packed… yet more people seemed to flood the doorway.  Jo and her other waitress Krissy were doing their best to keep up with the orders, while Dean and Ash had manned the bar.  It’s at this time she regrets firing Gordon Walker the other day.  But then she remembers how rude he was to Charlie and she doesn’t feel bad for throwing him out on his face.

            “Mom,” Jo says to her, “this is getting out of hand!  What’s with this town tonight?”

            “Beats me, Joanna Beth,” Ellen sighs, “just get back to work and whip the kitchen into gear. I need Harry and Ed to double their speed!”  Jo nods and follows her mother’s directions, while Ellen continues to check on the customers, making sure everyone is having a satisfactory night like a good owner.

            “Excuse me, miss,” a small woman grabs her attention, “I haven’t gotten my drink and I’ve been here for twenty minutes.”

            Ellen nods: “Thank you for telling me, I’ll see what’s taking my staff.”

            She looks at one end of the bar, to see that Ash is doing his best to keep up with the flurry of drinkers swarming him.  But when she looks to the other end, she sees the exact opposite.

            The flow of the Roadhouse seems to come to a stop as Dean leans over the counter, seemingly enraptured with one of the men at the bar.  He’s got his eyelids hooded and his flirting smirk in place: Ellen’s seen it all before. And it looks like the man on the receiving end is falling for it hard.

            Ellen doesn’t mind if Dean flirts, it’s how he makes tips.  But on nights like these she’s gonna need him to keep it in his pants.

            “Dean,” she sidles up to him, interrupting the staring contest going on between the two men, “as much as it pains me to remind you, you have a job to do.  So get to it”

            Dean turns his head to see the long line of angry, thirsty customers, and he grimaces. He turns to the man, putting his hand on top of the other.  “I’m sorry Cas, I got to get back to work.”

            The man, his name Cas, just nods.  “It’s okay, Dean,” he says, “I didn’t realize how long we were talking, time just flew! I need to head out anyway. But before I leave,” he slips a piece of paper across the wood “call me and we can set up a time to meet.”

            “Oh, I will,” Dean nods with passion, eyes following Cas as he moves out of the Roadhouse. Ellen has to cough loudly to break the spell the man left on Dean, but soon enough he’s back to pouring out the drinks.

            Ellen doesn’t have to go back to chew Dean out again for the rest of the night.  Soon enough the flood turns into a trickle, until the sign on the door flips closed and almost all of the staff has gone home. Ash has taken his post at the billiards table and snores over the clatter of Jo mopping the floors.

            At the cash register, Ellen counts the money that was made tonight and is happy at the profit she’s going to be pulling in.  She returns the money to the cash register when she notices Dean on a stool, staring at his cell phone with a question in his eyes.

            She sighs, sorry at herself for having to break up Dean’s little party.  From what she could see, they were really into each other. But now, all that confidence has left Dean as the paper rests crumpled up in his fist.  Ellen decides to take pity on him, and slides over to where he sits.

            “You’re never gonna know if you don’t call, boy,” she tells him, startling him.

            He turns with a remark on his tongue, but it dies as he slowly shrinks back into himself.

            “What’s the matter?” she asks, “Where’s the bravado from before?”

            “It’s just,” Dean starts, “that was when I was surrounded by people – I didn’t have time to think on it. But now… I’m not sure he’d want anything to do with me.”

            “Are you blind or just stupid?” she asks him, and her joke gets a small smile out of the elder Winchester brother.

            “It’s just… he’s a professor up at the university where Jess teaches and, he’s been to so many amazing places. What do I have to say that he wouldn’t find boring?” he asks no one, “What if _I’m_ too boring.”  Dean has a defeated look on his face, ready to just accept defeat without even trying.

            Ellen is having none of that.

            “Listen here Dean Winchester,” Ellen says, “I do not want to hear you speak so lowly of yourself. You are one of the most fun people I have ever met, and this Cas guy must think so too seeing as he was willing to talk to you for so long even with the crowd that was in here. If he thought you were boring, he would never have kept the conversation going with that much enthusiasm.”

            Dean’s spirits are lifted higher after her speech, and he turns to Ellen: “Thanks… I really needed that.”

            “Now,” Ellen pushes him off the stool, “go call your professor.”

            Dean rushes out the back exit, dialing the number on the paper in a flurry.

            “What was that all about?” Jo asks, leaning on the mop.  She didn’t get to hear what her mom and Dean were talking about over Ash’s snoring, but it seemed pretty important.

            “You just mind your business and get back to work Joanna Beth.”

* * *

 

            “So when it’s their wedding day you’ll know just who Dean will thank in his speech!” Ellen grins, triumphant that she is the hero of her own story.

            “Ellen, darlin’,” Bobby starts, “I love you and all, but you must be wrong.”

            Ellen’s smile dies as quickly as it came as she addresses her husband.  “And what are you supposin’ Bobby?”

            “I’m supposin’,” Bobby continues, “that the Cas guy must have given a fake number, and that Dean is really dating Benny.”

            “You take that back,” Ellen points, “their love is real!  You didn’t see what I saw!”

            “And you didn’t see what I saw!” Bobby fires back.

            “Enough!”

            The older adults in the room stop fighting, and every head turns to Jess as she strides to the front of the room.

            “This has gone too far,” she says, “look at what this is doing to us!  We’re driving each other mad and apart!  Who cares who Dean might be dating?  So what if half of us are right and the other half wrong? Did anyone think that we might all be wrong?”

            “What are you talking about?” Charlie asks.

            “I’m just saying we all have our own story, our own set of events with our own bias and views. But we all gathered here to hear _Dean_ share his announcement. And until Dean tells us he’s kissing Castiel, Benny, _whoever_ , I am not going to entertain this notion any further.”

            It’s a riveting speech, and something the gang really needed.  They take a breath and look at what this madness has caused, and each one apologizes for what was said and how everything played out. It was agreed that there would be no more talk until Dean finally had his announcement.

            “Boy, you will not believe what I just had to do,” Donna Hanscum, the last of the group, says as she walks in, “I had to give these two men a ticket for public indecency. And in the Impala…”

            And soon enough the agreement was thrown out the window as everyone but Jess descended on poor Donna.

            “Was it Dean? Did you see a trenchcoat?”

            “How tall was the guy? Bigger than Sam?”

            “Blonde hair or Black? Beard or Scruff?”

            “How far were they going?”

            Donna looks like she’s ready to faint, as Jess looks on while her family rushes at the poor deputy like water filling the Titanic.

            “Boy, if I knew this was how you guys were gonna act I should’ve came sooner.”

            The mob stops, as each and every head turns at the sound of the new voice.  The one they’ve been waiting for: Dean Winchester.

            “Hey guys, so-“

            But that’s all he gets out as the group switches gears and surround him instead, dragging him further into the Roadhouse.

            “Woah, settle down now, I can’t – I can’t hear what you’re – not at once – QUIET!”

            The group settles, startled at Dean’s raised voice.

            “Now I will answer whatever question you want, but please, one at a _time!_ ” Dean rumbles, deep voice louder than it usually is.

            The gang looks around, before agreeing to the terms.  They disperse to different parts of the room, all except Sam and Charlie, who want to end what they began.

            “Now Dean, we need you to tell us the truth,” Sam says, “and we’re sorry if this ruins your announcement but we need to know: who are you dating?”

            Dean’s eyes widen: “What?”

            “We all know… well sort of,” Charlie continues, “We just can’t agree on the person.  So Dean, who are you dating: Benny Lafitte, or Castiel Novak?”

            Dean looks between the two, before the first thought escapes his mouth.

            “…Yes?”

            “Yes?” Sam parrots back, confused as much as the rest of the room, “Dean, take this seriously and answer the question-“

            “Is now the time to come in?”

            Everyone looks to the front of the room one last time, where the men in question, Castiel Novak and Benny Lafitte, stand… holding hands.

            “It was them!” Donna points, drawing the attention to her, “They were the ones who I gave the ticket to! They were doing the naughty in the Impala!”

            As the others process this new information, Dean turns on the two.  “Really?  I leave you alone for five minutes…”

            “We got bored, Dean,” Benny shrugs, “you of all people should know what I do when I’m bored.”

            “Hold on,” Jo breaks their banter, “can we get back to this whole situation.  Why are you cheating on Dean with him?  And why are you cheating on him with him? And…and… my head hurts.”

            “Let me explain,” Dean says, “what I was coming here to tell you all was a big announcement. As some of you have _apparently_ heard, I’m dating Benny.  And as others of you have heard, I am dating Castiel as well. But before I was dating them… they were dating each other.”

            If there were ever a moment for a cricket to chirp now would be the time, as all of Dean’s family and friends do their version of Ash’s blank face he’s perfected over the years.

            Castiel steps forward, putting his hand on Dean’s shoulder.  “Maybe if we could all find some comfortable seating, Benny and I could explain the situation… _better_.”

            Dean looks at the others as if to say ‘You heard the man,’ and one by one chairs and stools are taken from their resting place and used to form a circle, with Castiel and Benny at the center.

            “As Dean was saying,” Castiel explains, “Benny and I were dating for a long time before we met Dean. It was during my journey through Europe I ran into him working at a café in Amsterdam.  The connection was instant, as conversation was an easy flow between us.”

            “See,” Benny continues, “I was travelling the world learning different techniques and recipes to make my own cookbook, and this job was one of my small gigs to earn some travelling cash.  Europe was the last place on my list, and running into Castiel was just destiny.”

            “We decided to travel together,” Castiel says, “Benny would cook and learn, while I compiled a novel of my own on European philosophies and how they shaped the flow of history.”

            “It was great, just the open road, and us together,” Benny sighs, “but soon enough we finished both our products.”

            “My book was lauded by many members of the philosophy community, allowing me to have my pick of residencies to teach,” Castiel tells those assembled.

            “And my cookbook was an instant hit,” Benny says, “and after the Book Tour I was stuck with a whole lot of money and nothing to do with it.”

            “We spent so much time traveling, we decided to settle down somewhere quiet,” Castiel continues, “I chose Lawrence University for my residency, and Benny used the funds from his book to not only purchase us a great apartment, but to also furnish his food truck: another one of his dreams.  It was nice to be settled in one place, but…”

            “But we still didn’t feel content,” Benny finishes, “it wasn’t the place.  This town is perfect, we loved it; it was our relationship. We loved each other, still do, but we both felt there wasn’t enough going on.  We had much more love to share.”

            “That’s when I met Dean,” Castiel says, “it was a short moment, but one that had a great impact on me. I was so relieved when he called, I couldn’t stop the butterflies that were in my stomach: butterflies that had been missing for a while.  I told Benny about Dean, and the idea formed in his head.”

            “I knew I needed to get my truck checked,” Benny explains, “so when Cas told me Dean was a mechanic, I thought it would be the perfect place to see if Cas was right… and was he ever. I was smitten with Dean from the minute he rolled out underneath Baby.”

            “So he asked me on a date where he and Castiel surprised me with their offer,” Dean takes over, “I will admit, I was wary at first.  This was my first real relationship with a man, and now it seemed to multiply! I thought it was a trick… but after doing some research and hanging out with them, the more I got used to the idea of dating both of them.  I really care for them, and they care for me.”

            The story ends with Dean casting a hopeful look across everyone’s faces.  There’s a long pause, but Bobby is the one to break it first.

            “And… you’re happy?” he asks.

            “Yeah,” Dean smiles, “I really am.”

            “Well, then we don’t have any problem.”

            A chorus of agreement follows this statement, as everyone gets up from their seats to give out hugs and have actual introductions.  But it’s when Dean is getting moose-handled by Sam does he realize something.

            “Wait a minute,” he yells, stopping the festivities, “how did you all know I was seeing Cas and Benny?”

            Like the color of communist Russia, everyone blushes.  No one can look Dean in the eye.

            “Well…” Charlie admits, “it’s kind of a long story…”

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you all enjoyed the story! Please leave kudos and comments as they let me know how much you liked the story and just brighten my day (especially the comments)! Thanks again for reading!!


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